3: Chapter 3 I'll swallow your sword!

The outer Sect martial arts arena was packed with people.

The sunlight after the rain was somewhat blinding; it shone on the dark golden sword talisman in Zhao Kuang's hand, and the reflected cold light made the corner of Ye Feng's eye twitch.

In the center of the arena, Zhao Kuang knelt on one knee, presenting the sword talisman to Su Man before him with both hands.

Su Man was dressed in white, pristine and unstained by dust.

Hundreds of Utility Disciples below the stage craned their necks to watch, their eyes filled with envy.

"Senior Brother Zhao is truly generous; this is a Primordial relic!"

"Senior Sister Su is so lucky; once she enters the Inner Sect, this will be a token of their love."

Noisy discussions drilled into his ears in waves.

Ye Feng carried a tattered sack on his back, wrapped around the newly unearthed broken sword, and walked up the steps one by one.

The mud on the soles of his shoes mixed with blood, leaving glaring black marks on the white marble steps.

Someone in the crowd frowned, covered their nose, and backed away.

"Where did this beggar come from? Why does he smell like a corpse?"

"That is... Ye Feng? Didn't he go missing?"

The discussions spread quickly, the martial arts arena instantly fell silent, and the atmosphere became somewhat strange.

Zhao Kuang's movements on the stage froze.

Zhao Kuang slowly turned his head, looking at the figure that should have died in the mass grave, his eyelids jumping violently.

Not dead?

Not only was this piece of trash not dead, but the cold Killing Intent on his body actually made him, a practitioner of the Qi Gathering Realm, feel a trace of palpitations.

"Ye Feng!"

Zhao Kuang stood up abruptly, tucked the sword talisman into his chest, and sneered: "You have a tough life; did the wild dogs in the mass grave find your meat too sour? Since you aren't dead, why aren't you hiding in a gutter? How dare you come here and embarrass yourself?"

Ye Feng did not speak, only staring at Zhao Kuang's chest, his footsteps not stopping.

One step, two steps.

Every step made Zhao Kuang's expression uglier.

Su Man stood to the side, her beautiful almond eyes flashing with panic first, then filled with disgust: "Ye Feng, today is the Sect grand competition. A useless person like you has no right to run wild here. Get down!"

"A useless person?"

Ye Feng finally stopped walking, standing ten steps away from Zhao Kuang.

He tilted his head, his pitch-black eyes showing no emotion, only the indifference of looking at a dead person.

"I have come to take back my things, and by the way, collect some interest."

"You are courting death!"

Being provoked in public by a dead man, Zhao Kuang could not save face.

He snorted coldly, and the dark iron longsword at his waist was unsheathed; the blade was engraved with three inscriptions.

"Since you want to die, I will grant your wish and send you to meet your dead parents!"

Zhao Kuang's body surged, Qi Gathering Realm spiritual power poured into the blade, the dark iron sword let out a sharp whistle, thrusting straight at Ye Feng's throat.

This sword strike was fast and ruthless, with a tricky angle.

Many timid female Disciples below the stage had already exclaimed and covered their eyes.

Ye Feng did not dodge.

In the disbelieving gaze of everyone, he slowly raised his left hand, neither dodging nor avoiding, meeting the sharp blade directly.

Crazy! He wants to grab the dark iron sword with his hand?

No blood splattered, only a muffled sound.

Ye Feng's five fingers clamped tightly onto the blade.

The moment the skin of his palm was cut, that familiar feeling of hunger erupted again from the black hole in his Dantian.

That was a greed more instinctive than appetite.

The sinister smile on Zhao Kuang's face instantly stiffened.

He felt the spiritual power on the sword being crazily devoured by an overbearing force.

His dark iron longsword, which he was proud of, was now trembling violently and letting out a mournful sound.

"How is this..."

Before he could finish, Zhao Kuang watched helplessly as the dark iron sword blade, centered on Ye Feng's palm, rapidly lost its luster.

The silver-bright blade was covered in rust, then crumbled inch by inch.

The pure metal Qi rushed into Ye Feng's body through the wound in his palm, turning into a surging hot current, washing over his dried-up Meridians.

Comfortable.

Ye Feng's five fingers suddenly tightened.

Crack!

The entire dark iron longsword turned into gray-white powder in his hand and drifted down.

The whole arena was dead silent.

Even the several outer Sect Elders watching from the high platform stood up abruptly, their eyes full of disbelief.

Bare-handed smashing of dark iron? What kind of Demonic Technique is this?

Zhao Kuang only felt his hand lighten; holding the bare sword hilt, his mind went blank.

At this very moment.

Ye Feng moved.

Having absorbed the essence of the entire dark iron sword, the power within Ye Feng surged.

He stepped forward, the bluestone slab under his feet exploded with a bang, and his whole body instantly crashed into Zhao Kuang's arms.

There were no fancy Moves.

Just a punch.

The fist hit Zhao Kuang's chest solidly.

Crack—Crack!

The teeth-aching sound of bone cracking resounded throughout the arena.

Zhao Kuang's chest visibly caved in, broken ribs pierced through skin and flesh, and blood spurted wildly.

"Ugh, ah!"

Zhao Kuang let out a scream, his whole body flew backward, and he crashed heavily onto the edge of the arena.

He struggled to get up, blood foam constantly gushing from his mouth, his eyes full of fear, his voice trembling: "Don't... don't kill me... I am an outer Sect..."

Ye Feng walked up to him, looking down at the man who had once broken his spine on a rainy night.

"Was it this hand that held the sword talisman just now?"

Ye Feng's gaze fell on Zhao Kuang's right arm.

Zhao Kuang instinctively wanted to pull his hand back, but Ye Feng didn't give him a chance at all.

He joined his fingers like a sword.

Ye Feng forcibly mobilized the trace of Primordial Sword Intent remaining in his body after swallowing the broken sword, carrying a sharp aura.

A transparent burst of Qi erupted from his fingertips; it was exactly the Rending Wind Sword Qi.

A cold light flashed.

A pillar of blood shot into the sky.

Zhao Kuang's right arm was severed at the shoulder, the cut as smooth as a mirror.

"Ahhh! My hand!"

The scream almost pierced everyone's eardrums.

The severed hand rolled to the ground, the fingers still tightly clutching the sword talisman.

Ye Feng bent down, pried open the stiff fingers, took back the blood-stained sword talisman, carefully wiped it, and tucked it into his chest.

Then, he raised his foot, stepped on Zhao Kuang's twisted face, and ground it hard.

After doing all this, Ye Feng slowly looked up at Su Man, who was already pale and trembling all over.

"Is this the Prodigy you fancied?"

Ye Feng's voice was not loud, but Su Man felt her face burning.

Just then, a powerful pressure descended from the sky, pressing heavily on Ye Feng's shoulders.

"You evil creature! How dare you commit murder and injure people during the Sect grand competition, breaking my rules!"

On the high platform, a gray-robed figure swooped down from the air, five fingers forming a claw, taking aim directly at Ye Feng's crown with a sound of breaking the air.

That was the Elder in charge of the outer Sect's penal laws, Sun Kui.

He was also the backer who usually accepted many benefits from Zhao Kuang.

This claw carried Killing Intent.